Quintessence
by Arya May
Summary: Maybe the more moralistic part of him had felt guilty sometimes. — Voryn Dagoth/Indoril Nerevar. Fluff, mainly. Edited.


_**Quintessence**_

**A/N: This pairing needs waaaay more love. It's easily the _best _one I think I found in Morrowind and all the implications make it all the sweeter XD Come on people, write more Voryn/Nerevar? Just for me?**

**So yeah, I've been playing the older TES like a maniac for weeks after I got sick of being overpowered to the point of stupidity in Skyrim. Never, _ever _abuse Smithing to the point where everything just dies. I'm planning on playing through with only the shittiest equipment just to get more fun out of it. Morrowind's a great game, but I have to confess, the combat system is just plain... argh. It's just dice rolling half the time... = =;**

**Anyhow, onto the story. I don't own TES, and also if you don't like fluff between two dudes, just _don't read it_..**. **And also, a lot of it is based off of my artistic license. I see Nerevar more as a young and charismatic leader rather than a 250% ripped and intimidating guy with a freaky mohawk. If that pisses you off, then I guess that's too bad.**

**EDIT: I finally noticed the amount of typos in here. Sorry about that...**

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Nerevar tries, Voryn admits- but doesn't _entirely_ approve no matter how impolitic. Image is everything, and even though the Chimeri _claimed _as much as they did that they put no emphasis on materialism, their thoughts were another process entirely. There was- _is-_ no mortal race that did not judge by appearance, and though Voryn knew that it was blasphemy against the Daedric Lords of Oblivion, it was probably the same for the gods as well.

The Hortator admittedly, did not make the image of what one might expect from a great hero, one who had united both the warring clans of Resdayn and their former enemies, the Dwemer. He had almost none of the powerful build that propaganda created, nor that fierce, intimidating aura that people swore came in waves off of his being. The two attributes that are the only things that people would accept for the picture of Lord Indoril Nerevar could not have been more different under the circumstances, so he does try- try to present himself to his people as the General that they revered.

His heavy, ornate armor concealed his rather lean and willowy form, and the Moon-and-Star provided him with the means to push back his naturally kind-hearted disposition in a society where mercy was deemed as cowardice. Politics demanded nothing less. Deception was considered a virtue.

Maybe Voryn was selfish in the knowledge that nobody really knew Azura's Champion as he did. It started sometime after the ill-fated arranged marriage to Almalexia, a chillingly beautiful but manipulative woman who had somehow managed to earn the perpetual dislike of her wed. Nerevar never talked about her; pretended often that his marriage was more or less non-existent, even with his wife a member of the First Council itself. Vivec sympathized with her- or at least, _appeared _that way, his poetic tongue as ever riddled with lies. Sotha Sil never seemed to care, and for Dumac- Voryn knew as well as any other that he believed in cold logic and productivity more than affection.

On the surface, the union appeared to be a happy one, but underneath the cheap façade, it was really anything _but_. It was an internal failure, at any rate, but that was fine. So was the result of most political imitations of reality.

Voryn's not too sure whether to feel _relieved_ or downright _happy_ about the fact that his best friend turned protégé turned _something_ never turned a blind eye towards his Queen. Thus in that he was selfish, because it was something that was buried in his heart; he was not as stupid as to express such foolishness _out loud_. He is aware that there is something terribly wrong about the way that Nerevar spent much more time around _him_ than his bride, and that the rumors were already brooding within their shells. Nevertheless, with a sentiment that he thought he would never have borne on his shoulders, Voryn decided quite plainly that he simply didn't give half a damn.

There had always been this strange kind of synergy between them, but he- more of a stranger than ever to wisps of iridescent emotion- found it almost to be like plunging himself into strange, unfamiliar waters when the wheels started to turn. At first, it was nothing that one might raise their eyebrows to- a brush of their hands, maybe. An additional, unfamiliar shard of warmth that Nerevar's eyes would hold when they met his own for a second longer than decorum allowed. The underlying tone of trust that, though his voice was always as clarion and serene as a spring river, was never directed to anyone but Voryn.

It was somewhat odd at first, even if they had been close almost all their lives. He had never been on good terms with overly emotional situations.

Balancing the duty of keeping the fragile alliances together on one hand and his own political image on another wasn't ever a thing of ease for the Hortator- or really, anyone at all. He might _pretend_ that it was- conceal the dark circles forming under his eyes, pluck out prematurely greying hair, but Voryn _knew_. Nerevar might have been a _genius_, but he wasn't a product of _invincibility_. The older Chimer worried often behind the apathetic mask that one day, the General might shatter, just like delicate glass.

Loyalty spurred him to assist the best he could within his abilities, but Voryn was selfish like he said, and so he couldn't _help_ but take advantage of Nerevar's confidence and his utterly pure-hearted innocence at such matters. The little signs that were passed between them gradually began to climb on the side of a perilous mountain.

(Nerevar's lips are soft, despite all the hard planes that took the place of familiar feminine curves. Voryn's often wondered how he could have missed them for _so damned long_-)

Maybe the more moralistic part of him had felt guilty sometimes, because the Hortator was hardly an eligible man for the taking- but at the same time, it was a form of twisted joy to spite Almalexia. He knew that she hated him- though whether it was out of envy or jealousy or something associated with females exclusively, he didn't care to know. She had never been in the picture from the start.

They keep the relationship a secret, because even an idiot could comprehend how it could completely obliterate the First Council's agenda if it somehow became known. Every kiss, every word of promise that Nerevar's ever given him is stowed within his thoughts, never to see the light of day. And that's just fine. He's just grateful that the bond extended itself so deep in the first place.

(Vivec warns: _be careful. Don't make any moves you'll later regret_. Voryn ignores him.)

Because he can. Because they can. Because he's gone- _they've gone_- too far with _it_ to still care about such trivialities.

Nerevar is… he just _is_.

And Voryn understands perfectly.

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